Cave 3
A node of Zone 1 Enemies Goresnout's Treasure-Hunter Goresnout's Minion Goresnout's Skull-Breaker Goresnout's Guardian Goresnout (Boss) Text Fires blaze across the cavern, flooding it with an almost jarring brightnes. Kobolds and beastmen swarm within this ocean of illumination, weapons in their hnds, murder in their eyes. Your gaze sweeps their ranks, assessing numbers and threats as your masters taught you. But your glance fixes itself on one particular enemy. In the middle of the bestial host stands a hulking creature, his thick arms and broad torso covered in blue fur -- as though he were some fey creature from a children's tale. Vicious little eyes stare from his skull, behind tusks that twitch on either side of a porcine snout. "That's their leader," you say. "How do you know?" Jaren asks, keeping his gaze fastened on the nearest enemy as he speaks. "It's always the ones that look different. Nature's way of marking them out, I suppose." The blue boar-man gestures at you with his cleaver-like blade, chipping the air as though it were your skull. "You! You the one kill Bloodhowl!" he says, the words emerging amid snarls and snorts. Tessa's hand presses against the small of your back. You understand her meaning. She wants you to engage him, taunt him. Heroes' tales are full of such things, and with the people of Marsonne present you have an audience to play to. "So one of your minions scurried back to tell you, instead of fighting and dying to my blade? But tell me, beast, do you know who I am?" You hear the intake of breath behind you, and know you've chosen your words well. In the imaginations of bards and chroniclers, those whose songs and stories fill the minds of the masses, heroes declare their identities when facing their adversaries. There's something so dramatic about such epiphanies. And you sense that the townsfolk are eager to hear what reaction will follow when your ancestry is revealed to these creatures. In truth, so are you. "You human! Human who die soon!" There's a chattering of approval from the boar-man's minions. You can barely suppress the smile that tries to fight its way across your impassive features. Is the boar-man playing to his audience as well? Trying to impress his minions by threatening you in his primitive version of the common tongue? The thought is amusing beyond measure. "Perhaps. But what makes you think you're mighty enough to slay a descendant of Dratherax?" Silence engulfs the room, the ambient growling and hissing from your foes' ranks disappearing as though devoured in a sharp intake of breath from dozens of savage throats. You sense the awe radiating from your companions. They're amazed at the reaction you've drawn from your enemies. Tessa almost purrs with pleasure at your mastery of the moment. One little word remembered from your studies, a title recorded in the works of Lucian the Scholar -- a companion of the Dragon-Rider. It's what the beastmen came to call him. 'God-Slayer'. Across the cavern, the boar-man's eyes burn with a new fire. "Then I kill you! Spill blood in dragons' name! Revenge for Erebus! Revenge for Bellarius! Revenge for-" The rest of his words are lost in the cacophonous roar from his minions, but it doesn't matter. He's already played his part as surely as if he were hired to do so. The gods must be smiling on you. And it occurs to you that he must feel the same way. As you have a chance to slay a ferocious beastman and begin your legend, so too might he slay you instead -- and be famed among his kind as the warrior who killed a descendant of the God-Slayer. You laugh, knowing that your mirth will be mistaken for boldness and battle-lust by your allies. The truth of the joke is for you and the gods alone.